Just a few things I need to say first:

1. I know this is my third unfinished story, but I'm definitely planning on finishing all of them! I just had another idea I needed to write down, so I did. And I just can't wait to get other's opinions on it so I had to put it up on the internet. I'm gonna really need your help with this one, so please; if you want me to submit write a review.

2. To all Cold Case fans; I just started to watch the show so if I don't get Lilly's character quite right, I'm really sorry. I do like both shows but I usually prefer Without A Trace. (I actually think I'm addicted to WAT, it takes a lot of my time lately, writing WAT fanfiction, making me wonder why I can't be addicted to something more useful. Like maths, or physics for example… that would help me more with my studies…:-)

3. Of course, I'm not making money from this. I'm just satisfying my addiction…

………………

I.

Morgues weren't nice places, there was no arguing about that. The cold, grey tiles, looking the same everywhere – no matter whether you looked to the ground, the walls or even the ceiling – the dead bodies, the smells, the sense of sadness that overcame people if they had to enter such a place.

The restrooms were no prettier than the rest inside the building; looking clean, but old. Grey tiles here as well. The sinks that had probably been once white were discoloured now – probably because they were as old as the rest. They were grey now, as well.

Still Special Agent Danny Taylor clung to the sink as if his life was depending on it, as he rinsed his mouth and tried to even his breathing. It was useless. The taste wasn't going away and wouldn't for another long time, as Danny expected. He raised his head to look into the small mirror, not liking what he saw; but eventually he just shrugged, accepting it. Apart from splashing his pale face with some cool water, there wasn't much he could do to make it look better.

As he slowly felt the life fully returning into his limps, it took him while to convince himself to leave the room. He knew fully well, he'd have to face the people behind that door soon, especially his co-worker Special Agent Samantha Spade who was surely standing in the corridor waiting for him, worried and with more questions than he thought could bear to answer.

There was no chance of a further delay; he'd made Sam wait long enough to have her think was necessary to knock on the door and call out his name: "Danny?"

"I'm okay, Sam…" He tried to sound convincing but failed miserably. "Gonna be out in a second!" One last look into the mirror, a deep sigh – and he grabbed the door handle.

If it had been somebody else, he wouldn't have called it a big deal if they'd stormed to the restrooms to empty their stomach contents into the toilet after seeing a dead body. But for Danny this reactions wasn't normal; as sad as it may sound, he was used to sights like that – it just came with his job.

If Danny was honest to himself he knew it wasn't just seeing the dead man's bloody bullet-ridden body; the unusual reaction had had more to do with what he'd seen in the man – or rather: who.

Unable to think of it any longer, Danny shook his head, almost violently as if to shake off the bad thoughts. Martin is going to be okay, he told himself silently, had to remind himself again like he'd done a dozen times in the last few minutes, had actually done a million times during the last few weeks. This guy was not Martin, just some poor devil who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. After all, with finding the guy here, dead, meant the case was solved. Finding out who'd done this to him, wasn't Danny's problem – and he wouldn't have been keen on it anyway – he guessed the case would be handed over to the local police.

But it could have been Martin.

The thought came from nowhere. He tried to shake it off but couldn't.

It had been so close. So damn close.

Shaking his head again, Danny finally made it out of the restroom, only to find Sam instantly by his side, her hand laid on his arm, gently. "Danny, you sure you're okay?" her tone was worried, but there was something else in it. He couldn't quite make out what it was.

"Positively. I'm gonna be fine in a minute." He shrugged off her hand, unwilling to let her notice he was still slightly shaking. Taking long steps he walked down the corridor, heading towards the exit. As soon as he was sure, he'd totally regained his composure, he turned around to Sam who was having trouble keeping up with his pace: "At least, he's our guy. Let's give Jack a call, tell him the case is not ours anymore. And get back to the office."

"Sure", Sam mumbled, almost inaudibly as she pulled out her cell phone from her pocket. Danny didn't wait for her to finish her call, just headed for the door, eager to escape the building and the worrying thoughts being in there caused in him. He could feel Sam's stare fixed on his back but ignored it.

………………

As they arrived back their office Danny conceded to Sam the job to inform their boss, Special Agent Jack Malone, about any further details on what they'd seen at the morgue and sat down at his desk without saying a word to anybody. Eager to forget about the case as soon as possible he instantly started to write his report, shutting out the noises of the busy office. The sooner it was finished the soon he could hand it in and turn his attention to something else.

Something that didn't remind him of that night.

Exhausted Danny interrupted his typing for a moment to close his eyes – only to reopen them quickly the next moment as, once again, that picture came to his mind: the dead body on the table, bullet wounds to his chest and stomach, the dead eyes still open, seemingly staring at Danny.

From Martin's face.

It took him a while to shake off the picture his imagination ha created and Danny began to wonder for how long it would be going to haunt him now.

It was the sound of something being dropped on his desk that brought him fully back to reality. He also noticed the shadow of someone standing right next to him and looked up to find his friend and co-worker Special Agent Vivian Johnson returning his gaze with a concerned expression in her eyes.

Danny turned his attention to what she'd dropped on the desk – a small brown paper bag – unable to hide his annoyance. He loved Vivian dearly as a friend, but right now he just wanted to be left alone. Still he nodded towards the bag. "What's that?"

"Sandwich. I brought it for you from the coffee shop down the street. You need some nourishment inside you."

"Viv, I just ate lunch, one hour or so ago."

"Yes, and most of that went down the toilet at the morgue, didn't it?" she asked in her typically calm way of approaching things. And people.

"Who told you that?" Now anger mixed into the annoyance in Danny's voice. He couldn't help it.

Vivian sighed, still all calm and gave him that you-can't-be-serious-look. "Danny…"

"Sam told you, right?" He stood up, ready to leave. This was too much for him at the moment.

"Danny, sit down", Vivian ordered, voice sounding adamant. In a different situation Danny would have laughed at the thought of how the situation must be looking if somebody was watching: Vivian, who was several inches shorter than he was, looking up at him, strictly and with the authority of the older and more experienced, ordering him to sit. That moment, though, Danny felt miserable and not like laughing at all. Yet, there was no way of disobeying – unless he wanted to make things worse. And that wasn't his intention.

So he sat down. But that was all he did although Vivian's gaze was still directed at him and he knew fully well what she was waiting for.

"Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" she finally asked exactly the question he'd read in expression long before.

The answer was simple: "No."

"Well, then I'll have to tell Jack."

"Tell what to Jack?" Danny knew he was being childish, but couldn't help it.

That look again. "I'll have to tell him that you're not fit to work."

"Yeah, right. Because you're the one who knows." Deep inside Danny felt guilty about his behaviour. Vivian had just overcome serious heart surgery and was on her second day back at work, still by far not back at full strength – and he was being an asshole, while she was just worried about him.

Actually worried about him. Why would she be worrying about him, anyways, he wondered but was too stubborn to give in and ask her.

After all, he told himself silently, it could be worse.

It was worse, Danny noticed a moment later: Jack was approaching them, his face a mask of anger he could barely hold back. "What's going on?"

Vivian sighed. "Nothing."

Danny turned away from both and wordlessly continued typing his report. Why couldn't they all just leave him alone?

"Didn't look like nothing", Jack said. "Didn't sound like it, either."

"Just a little disagreement, Jack. I was just trying to…"

But their boss interrupted Vivian: "Let's talk in my office."

Danny made to stand up again but Jack shook his head. "I want to speak to Vivian now. But don't get your hopes up, I need to see you, too, afterwards. I'll have Vivian tell you then."

………………

As soon as Vivian had left Danny's thought drifted back to the dead man and from there on to Martin. Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald, FBI missing persons unit, recently hit by three bullets in an ambush while he was transferring a suspected terrorist. Danny's stomach began to feel queasy; again pictures came flooding to his mind – him and Martin in that car; the van in front of them; suddenly it's back doors being opened; the two man coming out of it, shooting at them with their machine guns.

Martin's face after he'd been hit.

A long time ago, Danny had thought he'd never come to like Martin, or just accept him as a full member of their team. Martin Fitzgerald, son of Victor Fitzgerald, who was nothing less than the Deputy Director of the FBI. Danny had found hard to believe that Jack was going to force him to work with this guy and he'd done everything to give Martin a hard time. But, liking it or not, after a while Danny had had to admit that Martin was actually okay.

All that had been along time ago, and over the years they'd grown even close, as close as two grown-up, straight, homophobic men could allow themselves to be to each other. Danny couldn't think of any other guy that had been such a good friend to him, earnest and always there, when needed. He had even thought he'd give his life for Martin, should he have to.

Until the moment had come to prove it and he'd failed. Being a damn coward. And everybody in the office knew.

"Thinking about him again?" the voice belonged to Vivian, warm and gentle as always, and Danny found himself relaxing a little at its sound. But he couldn't bring himself to return her smile as he looked up into her eyes.

Without waiting for his answer Vivian motioned towards Jack's office. "He wants to see you now." Then she walked back to her desk.

Taking a deep breath, trying to force down the nervousness that threatened to take over him, he got up and walked towards the glass doors behind which his boss sat, waiting.

"Sit down, Danny", Jack greeted him.

He did, although reluctantly. He expected a lecture, but instead Jack handed him a file.

"What's that?" he asked, but then he saw the name on it. "Amy Bradfort. That case was four months ago."

"It's is still open", Jack said.

"Yeah, I know. What's that to do with me?" Danny was sure that whatever this had to do with him; he was probably not going to like it.

"I just got off the phone with a Detective Rush, Philadelphia Police. Amy Bradfort is a main suspect for murder."

"What?" Unbelievingly Danny opened the file. It contained everything they'd found out about the woman. Murder wasn't mentioned anywhere. "How come, we didn't come across that?"

"Well, the murder happened ten years ago. And Bradfort hasn't been a suspect until the case has been reopened recently by the Philadelphia Police."

"So?"

"It's a new lead, isn't?"

"Jack, not don't want me to…"

"I want you to meet up with Detective Rush and have a look into this. She's coming to New York, will actually arrive in…" Jack looked at his watch. "… thirty minutes. I told her to meet you at the reception in an hour…"

"Her? – Jack, you can't be serious. We're still one agent down and Martin won't be back for another two or three weeks. You can't afford to send me out for useless assignments and make me follow up silly leads…"

"It's work. It has to be done by someone and…"

"… and you thought I'm the right one to do it, right?" As anger welled up inside him Danny got up from the seat and started pacing up and down through Jack's office.

"Danny, sit down again." But he couldn't. He needed to get rid of that furious energy inside him. Only when Jack repeated the sentence, his voice dangerously low, he slumped down on the chair, ready to resign to the inevitable.

Jack sighed before speaking again. "Listen, I got a replacement for Martin, and Viv's back, if only on desk duty. We're getting along and I figured I'd take some pressure off you. I'll give you two days, if you haven't found anything until then…"

"Why are you doing this, Jack?"

"I just told you."

"So this is meant to make me feel better?"

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed again, deeply. "This is a high-pressure job. You still seem affected by what's happened to Martin. I just thought… well, that you could do with a little break from our routine, time pressure and all."

"So you're making me feel like I'm not up to it. Great. That's surely good for me. Thanks Jack for your trust in me." Furiously, Danny rose from the chair and headed towards the door. Without looking back he told his boss. "I'll give you call, if I find out anything."

He heard Jack say something but wasn't willing to listen. All he wanted was to get out of the building. Some fresh air. Not having to see the faces in there, anymore.

He wondered how he'd let it come to this. No matter what Jack said, he was almost sure his boss had given him this assignment to punish him, or to have him out of the way. Either of it, maybe even both. He'd messed up – he, Jack Malone's former golden boy, his great discovery. Danny thought back to when Jack had first hired him – against other's advices – a young agent, hot-headed and inexperienced but also determined and self-confident enough to adjust quickly to the high pressure the job involved.

A sigh escaped as he stepped into the elevator to get out of the building, unsure what he was going to. At least until he was supposed to meet that Detective Rush. Finally he decided on taking a walk.